Broken Hearts & Crimson Paint
by ASlaveToWords
Summary: They say twin markings on a pair's flesh usually signifies a connection... Bakura's convinced of the fact when he get's the scare of his life. Ryou wouldn't really leave him would he? Forever? After all, the Yami only stayed because of him... RyouXBakura


**A/N:** This is my first attempt at an angsty story sooo... go easy on me OK guys. Also, I refer to Ryou as "teen" or "boy" and Bakura as "man". Sorry if you disagree with this but that's just how I chose to portray them in this fic because I feel Bakura seems so much older then Ryou (ignoring the fact that he's technically thousands of years old).

**Disclaimer**: I do not own YuGiOh or any of the characters.

* * *

Crimson splatters doused the wall as Bakura attacked with a vengeance. Damn that Ryou! He brought this on himself, he'd pushed Bakura too far and caused the darker half's already unstable mind to finally snap. How dare the younger boy make him _feel_? How dare he make him _care_? Make him _want_? Make him...

"AHHHH!!' Bakura screamed aloud, slapping the paintbrush on the wall with great force.

Blood-colored paint drizzled down the wall as if spattered there after some horrific, gruesome scene.

"Damn you!" Bakura screamed, splattering the crimson liquid over the wall again.

This would show Ryou, it had to. After he was finished, Ryou would never try something so stupid again. From now on, even entering the room would make him squirm and crawl, causing him to loose his nerve.

Bakura grinned wickedly at this thought. He then scowled as his memories came back to him. He remembered it so perfectly, so vividly, saw it so clearly in his minds eye that it was like he was reliving the time again like some perverse, sick horror film he'd been forced to watch. It had been the worst day he could ever remember -- and also the most important revelation of his life.

* * *

.....::::: Flashbacks :::::.....

* * *

"Damn it!" Bakura yelled, sucking the fingers he'd pinched with a growl. He scowled at the motorbike as if it had hurt him on purpose and was openly mocking him.

What was he doing? He couldn't fix engines. Why didn't he just ask for help, Malik knew all about this sort of thing? Because he was too stubborn of course. He'd figure it out eventually -- somehow.

Bakura stood up and walked into the garage, looking for some sort of tool to help him. He cursed loudly when he tripped over something laying in his path. Steadying himself before he fell, the crimson-eyed man turned and glared at the can which had spilled it's contents over the ground. A can of red paint? Who put that there?!... Oh, that's right, he had. Bakura growled again and grabbed a rag to clean the mess up. He paused curiously however when he realized the odd pattern the paint had made upon spilling. It had ran down part of the length of the garage and had pooled in two sort of blobs at the bottom, oddly forming a crude broken-heart shape, looking as if it were bleeding at the bottom due to the still running paint.

This image bewildered Bakura. The shape was by no means perfect as it was sort of jagged around the edges and had a rather large parting down most of the middle, which resembled the 'broken' effect -- but despite the exact perfection, the shape still very much resembled a heart-shape.

Starring at the spillage for a moment or two, Bakura managed to convince himself that his mind was playing tricks on him. He threw the rag over the mess and scrubbed it away with a vengeance, determined to get the thought out of his head.

Once Bakura had finished cleaning, he threw the rag away; ignoring the crimson stain now left on the ground as best he could; and proceeded to look for the proper tool. Finding one that might work, he walked back out to his motorbike in the driveway and knelt down beside it again. Beginning to tinker with some knob he saw, Barukra froze when he noticed a bright spot on the ground. His throat went dry when he realized that the spot, which was a spot of sunlight filtering through some trees nearby, just so happened to be in the exact same shape the spilled paint had formed earlier -- the broken heart.

Turning around to glare at the trees, which seemed to be waving at him mockingly in the breeze, Bakura got up and stomped over to them. He gave their thin, fragile frames a good shake until their branches shifted awkwardly, distorting their position and ruining any shape they may have had.

Bakura stomped back over to his bike again, and satisfied there were no more tantalizing images on the ground, he plopped back down and resumed his task. Being perhaps a little too rough however, Bakura twisted the knob he was fiddling with the wrong way, causing jet-black liquid to squirt up and drench his face. With an angry glare and growl, Bakura stood up yet again and stormed back into the garage. His patience and temper were both wearing extremely thin and it wasn't going to take much more to send him over the edge.

Stomping up to a grubby, smeared mirror in the garage, Bakura grabbed another rag and wet it a little from a hose near by. Glancing at the mirror and looking back down at the rag, Bakura did a double-take when something in the glass caught his eye. All anger immediately melting away, Bakura starred at the mirror in shock as he saw not his eyes, but deep, chocolate-brown-colored eyes starring back at him. His features were gentle and soft, yet much sadder looking then normal, and black liquid smeared his cheeks like inky tear tracks streaming down his face. His eyes sparkled with more unshed tears threatening to fall and a pale complexion as white as his hair stood out like a ghost.

Bakura's eyes burned from not blinking until eventually they began to blur and finally blinked furiously. Rubbing his eyes to rid them of the sting, Bakura blinked a few times and starred back into the mirror. But instead of Ryou's face and sweet, chocolate-colored eyes starring back at him, Bakura was greeted by his own rough, hard, serious features and crimson stare; still smeared and covered in oil.

Blinking and shaking his head, Bakura quickly wiped his face clean and turned away from the mirror, mumbling something about loosing his mind and getting soft.

Once again, the crimson eyed man went back to his bike, this time with his mind swirling with unwanted thoughts and unanswered questions.

After a long time, Bakura was convinced he had fixed his problem and decided to turn the bike on to see if it worked. To his delight and astonishment, the bike started. Unfortunately, it still sounded a little funny. He reached down to fiddle with something on the engine when a waft of steam burst upwards and breathed on Bakura's wrist. Colorful curses escaped the man's mouth as he grabbed his burnt wrist and proceeded to shake it violently as it this would somehow help.

When the pain and sting subsided a little, Bakura removed his uninjured hand to see the damage and starred in horror at what he saw.

Now etched in his wrist, undoubtedly harsh enough to leave a scar, Bakura saw the same broken-heart that had been haunting him all day. With a stab at something deep down inside, Bakura was finally forced to admit that these occurrences weren't a coincidence and that something was very wrong.

With a savage growl, Bakura turned towards the house and stormed off.

The door was slammed hard as the dark man headed for the kitchen. Turning on the water and letting it run cold, he hissed through clenched teeth when the icy liquid doused his wrist.

Turning the water off, Bakura grabbed a white cloth from one of the drawers and tied it around the stinging wound. Cursing and grumbling, Bakura secured the cloth around his wrist, then turned to head back outside again. He froze in place however when a terrifying chill ran down his spine.

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Where was Ryou? Why was there no food cooking on the stove, it was almost dinner time after all? Where was the music always coming from somewhere in the house? Where was the teen's cheery whistling? Where was the pitter patter of Ryou's small, delicate feet as he danced to his favorite songs? ..... Where was Ryou?

With a sickening feeling in his stomach, Bakura took one look down at his own wrist before bolting for the hallway and up the stairs.

Slipping on the floor due to his socks on the slippery hard-wood, Bakura sped down the hallway upstairs, his eyes fixed on the last door at the end.

Thrusting himself upon the door, the elder snow-white man tumbled through the door and froze.

Sitting up on the counter was the one person he'd just been stressing over. Ryou was sat atop the counter of the sink and leaning against the cupboards beside it. A knee and arm were up on the counter with him while the other leg hung over the side. A silver razor blade was poised delicately in Ryou's counter hand while the other arm dangled lazily over the side of the counter. A thin stream of crimson red was slowly trickling down the snow-haired teen's hand and dripping elegantly from his thin, perfect fingers. Pooled below him on the floor was a huge puddle of the crimson liquid, looking as if it might be a life's supply.

Ryou's other hand was dangling in the sink, which was also filled with the thick, crimson life.

Usually pale skin was now chalky white, and normally beautiful, inviting chocolate-colored eyes were now dull and lifeless as they stood open and awake, displaying what once was.

Bakura's breath stopped and his throat constricted painfully with the force of his raw emotion. The mirror behind the teen was smeared with Ryou's blood, an obvious attempt at a last message to his darker half. Though the message was of a crude substance, the words were beautifully written and had an even more beautiful meaning.

_"I love you Bakura..."_

Finally having gotten over his shock, Bakura refused to acknowledge the wetness in his eyes or the stabbing, searing pain in his heart as he lunged at the teen and grabbed his wrists.

"Don't you dare die on me you Ra-damned brat!!" He screamed savagely, refusing to believe it was too late.

Looking down at the wrists in his hands, Bakura finally realized that he did, in fact, have a heart, because it shattered into a million pieces.

Matching the burn on his wrist -- the shape that had been haunting him all morning, Ryou had carved the same crude, broken-heart shape in both his wrists, the rip down the middle being the slice that had emptied most of his precious crimson fluid.

Squeezing the boy's wrists tightly, Bakura searched frantically around the room for something to help. Finding nothing, the man ripped open the medicine cabinet and rumaged around, covering everything in blood that wasn't his own and dislodging every object that was of no use. Finally spotting something useful, he withdrew some gauze and tape and opened a junk drawer below the sink, rumaging around again until he found a spool of thread and a needle.

Threading the needle with shaky hands --which took quite a while and frustrated the man greatly -- Bakura finally managed to get it straight and grabbed Ryou's wrists, wiping his eyes angrily with the back of his wrists every now and then so he could see. Doing a rough job, Bakura sewed the wrists together and bandaged them up so tightly it would have cut off all circulation had there still been any.

Bolting out of the room then, Bakura grabbed the telephone and pressed a speed dial button he was very glad Ryou had pestered him to bother to remember. When someone finally answered, Bakura choked a few times until he finally managed a coherent sentence.

"I-I need an ambulance! Right now!!"

"OK sir, calm down and give my your address."

Bakura resisted the urge to bite the man's head off for telling him to calm down, then spat out his address with strict threats to be there in record time or else.

A pale hand threw the phone down and the body it was attached to bolted back up the stairs. Walking back into the bathroom, Bakura wretched at the sight he still hadn't gotten used to. Taking the younger boy in his arms, Bakura took Ryou from the counter and gently lowered him to the ground. Holding him impossibly tight to his own body, Bakura buried his face in the crook of Ryou's neck as he fought for his next breath.

"Why...?" He choked out painfully. "You stupid, stupid idiot! How could you do this to me?! Why couldn't you just tell me like any normal person?!"

Bakura's eyes suddenly shot open as images flashed before his eyes. Ryou _had_ tried to tell him! Many times.

They'd been sitting on the couch watching TV and Ryou had told Bakura he'd had something to tell him. The older man had snapped at him that it better be good. He'd had a bad day and had taken it out on Ryou, as always. Of course, no one could say anything of such importance under that kind of pressure, let alone the shy, timid Ryou, so he'd simply said it wasn't that important and said nothing else.

Another time Ryou had made a huge, fancy dinner for Bakura -- just because -- and told the man that it was a sort of celebration for finally being brave enough to do something. Bakura had shown little interest and told the boy that it better not be more of his stupid, corny, girly stuff; if so, he didn't want to hear it. So Ryou had said nothing.

Once the two had been grocery shopping -- how Bakura _loathed_ grocery shopping -- and there had been a gay couple in one of the isles, laughing and talking together as they tried to decide on which meal they wanted for dinner, or something of the sort. Ryou had appeared thoughtful and on the ride home had asked Bakura's opinion on the subject. Again Bakura had shown little interest and said it didn't really bother him either way, he was just glad he wasn't burdened with the ties that came with such a relationship. Ryou had seemed upset, though he tried greatly to hide it, and said nothing more on the subject.

There had been many more times which all flashed through Bakura's mind, and looking back, the crimson eyes swam as he cursed himself for being so stupid and not seeing the obvious before.

Bakura's breaths were becoming painfully hard to force, and his chest ached tortuously. He didn't know what he would do if anything happened to Ryou. They had long ago acquired their own bodies and Bakura had never regretted a moment until now. Just like the other Yami's, Bakura had been given the option by some greater force he still didn't understand, to either go back to his time or stay in the present. Marik was the only one who had gone back, while Bakura and Atem had stayed. As a result, they were mortal now and would die that way, destined for the rest of their time to grow old and die and never be able to go back to what once was. Never once had Bakura regretted his decision until this moment. Had he and Ryou still been sharing the same body, he could have taken Ryou's place and Ryou could have lived on. But as it was, Bakura had his own body now and all he could do was look and ache as he watched Ryou's life drain from him.

"Don't you dare leave me Ryou..." Bakura choked hoarsly. "Come back to me.... come back..."

Bakura stayed on the floor, cradling the limp body in his hands as he fought himself and his emotions, knowing, somehow, that this was all his fault.

After what seemed like forever, Bakura finally registered the sound of a siren and heard the front door slam open downstairs. The sounds seemed far away however and everything that happened after that was a blur.

The paramedics grabbed Ryou from Bakura's arms and threw questions at him as they loaded him on a stretcher and took him away. The man only had enough sense to stand up and follow the men. Barely registering their questions and unable to answer them, he was only able to say one word when he was stopped at the door to the ambulance.

"Are you family? What are you to this boy?"

"Brother." Bakura choked out as if it was a reflex.

Taking one quick look at the man and noting the resemblance, they grabbed Bakura's arm and hastily pulled him aboard before slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Bakura's head was cradled in his hands as his stomach wretched and rolled inside him. He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep, and he hadn't done so for days. Ryou had been out for nearly a week and the man looked worse then he did. The only relief the man had was being told that Ryou's chances to live were well, though he may have a very long recovery and nothing was certain yet. Dull, crimson eyes were sunken in a chalk white face and unkempt hair stuck off in all directions making it worse then ever. Only going home for quick showers and when he was driven out at night, Bakura was in the hospital every other waking minute. After the first few days, the man had refused to leave and the doctors had been forced to let him stay in a guest room. As soon as he was allowed, he was right back at Ryou's side again the very next morning.

Now, sitting beside Ryou's bed yet again, Bakura starred down into the sweet, gentle face that appeared as if he were sleeping and having a rather nice dream. Bakura snorted angrily. The boy looked better then he did, and Ryou was supposed to be the sick, injured one.

Bakura slipped his fingers around Ryou's and caressed the back of the soft hand lovingly, just needing to touch the younger boy, to assure himself that Ryou was still there, that he was still with him.  


* * *

Eventually, after a week or so, the doctors finally took a reasonable approach and insisted Bakura go home. They told him he was no good to Ryou if he was ill too and some rest, if nothing else, would do them both good. Not being able to argue with such logic, Bakura growled and told the Doctors to bring Ryou straight home as soon as he was well; no doctors, no psychologists, none of their usual 'crap', in Bakura's words. With a promise from them to do just that, Bakura finally left the hospital and headed home for some well deserved R&R.

As it was, Ryou finally awoke the very afternoon Bakura had left. Big, brown eyes blinked themselves back into consciousness as he looked around the room on confusion.

"Where am I..?" He whispered to himself, his throat feeling very dry.

"You're in the hospital."

Ryou's eyes widened as his head turned to look at the brunette woman beside him.

"I'm where?!" He excaimed in disbelief. The nurse smiled at him kindly, fully prepared for what was to come.

"You're in the hospital, dear." She repeated calmly. Ryou's chocolate-brown eyes blurred with tears.

"No! No, I'm not supposed to be here! How?! How am I still-"

Ryou bit his lip as tears streamed down his face. Reaching out to gently wipe his tears away, like an affectionate mother, the nurse smiled at him again.

"Your brother brought you here." She said gently. Ryou blinked at her in confusion.

"My-" Suddenly the brown eyes widened and his face paled ever so slightly. "Bakura."

The nurse nodded.

"Yes, I believe that's what he said his name was, looked a lot like you."

Ryou's tears thickened as he bit his lip again.

"He's going to kill me..." The teen whispered, barely audible. "It's just as well I died..."

"What's that sweetheart?"

Ryou's eyes lifted up to the brunette nurse, whom he realized couldn't have been older then her early thirties, then swallowed again and looked back down.

"Nothing.." He whispered. The nurse smiled again, though this time it was a little more forced.

"Would you like some water, Ryou?"

Ryou looked up at the brunette. She'd used his first name.

"Yes please." He said softly. She smiled and held a glass of water with a straw to his lips.

"My name is nurse Tibbethen, but you can call me Tibbs; everyone else does."

Ryou took a long, greedy drink of the water as he starred at the nurse curiously. When he was finished he voiced his curious question.

"Why Tibbs?"

She shrugged.

"I'm not sure really. I suppose my real name is too long and hard to say, so it got shortened somewhere along the line. Besides, I don't mind, I like it."

Ryou nodded and gave her a small smile, one Tibbs was very happy to see.

"I like it too."

Tibbs laid the glass back on the table beside the bed when Ryou was finished and folded her hands neatly in her lap as she sat back in her chair comfortably.

"It seems your brother loves you very much." She said conversationally. This surprised Ryou greatly; surely she couldn't be talking about Bakura.

"Why do you say that?" He asked curiously. Tibbs looked thoughtful and a little sympathetic as she remembered the man's face.

"He didn't leave your side since you arrived here a week ago. They finally drove him home this morning under strict orders to get some rest, though I'm not so sure he will.... the poor boy, he looked worse then you did Ryou."

Ryou frowned deeply.

"He did? And he looked like me you say?"

Tibbs nodded and Ryou's frown deepened. That was it then, it had to be Bakura. But why was he so worried about Ryou? What was his Yami up to? Or was it not worry at all, was his significant other simply angrier then usual, angry at Ryou for what he had tried to do? Ryou swallowed hard and Tibbs spoke again.

"He asked us to bring you straight home as soon as you're well. He insisted that we not schedule you a psychologist or any meetings with the doctors, just to bring you straight home. But of course, that choice isn't his to make, it's yours. What do you think Ryou?"

Ryou thought he was going to be sick. He didn't want to go home, to go back and face Bakura's wrath, but he didn't want to have to share his thoughts and feelings with complete strangers either.

"He's right." Ryou said a little nervously. "I want to go home as soon as I can."

Tibbs smiled fondly.

"Well, you can go home as soon as you're feeling well again. I could give you a check-up now if you like and if you're all healed up and the doctors say it's OK, you could go home this afternoon."

Ryou nodded and Tibbs stood up from her chair. She did all the usual things required for a normal check-up, then gently took Ryou's wrists in her hands. With practiced ease, she gently removed the bandages from Ryou's left wrist. Ryou cringed when he saw the deep, crude carving still embedded in his arm. Tibbs smiled sadly as she starred at the cuts, already scabbed over and beginning to scar.

"The stitches will have to stay in for another few weeks..." She said softly. "This area is extremely precious and delicate.... it's lucky you're still here with us Ryou.."

Tibbs looked up at him, a deep sadness sparkling in her eyes.

"Your brother had them sewn together when you got here. Granted, it wasn't very good, but at least he'd tried.... I hope you can see now just how badly he he didn't want to loose you Ryou. You're still young and there's much to live for. Sometimes it takes serious measures for people to realize just who cares the most. And sometimes people find the answers quite shocking."

Ryou frowned at her words. What was Bakura planning now? Why had he tried so hard to keep Ryou alive? Was he panning to keep him aive so he coud kill him himself? It just didn't make sense to him.

After pondering and sifting through confusing thoughts for a while, Ryou looked back up at Tibbs to see that she had bandaged the first wrist and was working on the second. When she was finished and getting ready to bandage it again, she paused and starred at the shape of the cuts. Her face was lined with questioning curiosity she couldn't seem to control, but she said nothing and didn't look at Ryou.

Ryou gave her a small, empty smile as she began to bandage the wrist again.

"It's for him." He answered, answering her unvoiced question.

Tibbs paused and looked up at Ryou in confusion.

"What is dear?"

"Those." Ryou replied, gesturing towards his wrists.

Tibbs looked back down at the wrists and blinked a few times. She then cleared her throat and finished her job. When she was done, she resumed her seat beside Ryou and pulled her chair closer to his bed, leaning her elbows on it as she smiled fondly at him.

"And who's 'him', Ryou?"

Ryou bit the side of his lip. If Bakura had told them he was Ryou's brother, then Ryou couldn't very well tell the woman she was in love with him, could he? Besides, with their uncanny similarities, no one would believe they were anything but anyway.

"The... man I love." Ryou said softly, a slight flush coming to his face.

Tibbs took a deep, carefully measured breath and reached out to take Ryou's hands in her own.

"I'm going to tell you something Ryou. But before I do, you have to promise not to get upset with me and just listen to my words, alright?"

Ryou starred at her for a moment, then nodded. Tibbs gave a single nod and spoke again.

"Sometimes love can make you do strange things, things you would never otherwise do. It's a powerful thing and, in my opinion, the most powerful thing in the world. Love can make you virtually invincible, but it can also destroy you with nothing more then a simple look. I know you think that because there's no beginning with one person, that there can't be another one somewhere or with someone else. But you have to consider things very carefully."

Tibbs gave Ryou the warmest smile he'd ever seen as she starred deep into his eyes, and Ryou found he couldn't look away.

"This person whom you care so deeply for is a very lucky person Ryou. It may seem like they don't care or return your feelings the same, but consider this, how would you feel knowing this person was tearing themselves apart because they blamed themselves for your death? That because of a note, a few words passed between you, or just some past memories they tortured themselves with, they were living on in hell while you and your problems were laid to rest. How would it make you feel to know that Ryou?"

Ryou's heart lurched at the thought. There was no sugar coated lining, no soft spoken assurances to tell him they were just words. No, it was just cold, hard and blunt. His eyes flooded with unshed tears as his throat constricted painfully.

"I-I..... I never thought...."

Tibbs' look intensified.

"I'm sorry Ryou, we're not supposed to say anything to the patients, especially delicate cases like this... I just want you to understand that things aren't always what they seem. Sometimes people simply have trouble expressing how they feel. Someone who might seem as brave as a lion in the face of physical danger might not have the strength or courage to tell the one they love how they feel. In many cases, they use other emotions, even aggressiveness and indifference to hide how they truly feel, just because it's easier."

Tibbs smiled again and lifted Ryou's wrists to her lips for a gentle kiss.

"Ryou, to the one you love, you might be the bravest person in the world, simply because you could express feelings he couldn't. Think about that for me won't you?"

Ryou sniffled and nodded, blinking his tears away. When one slipped down his cheek anyway, Tibbs gave him a look mixed with guilt and sympathy. She released Ryou's wrists and moved to sit next to him on the bed.

"I'm sorry Ryou. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't upset me." Ryou replied thickly. "You- you made me realize a lot of things.. and helped me....You have no idea how right you are."

Tibbs swallowed as she starred at the boy. Perhaps it was some sort of maternal instincts inside of her, but for one reason or another, she wrapped Ryou in a gentle hug.

"I'm sorry Ryou." She said again.

Ryou sniffled and, for some reason he couldn't explain, he hugged Tibbs back. In a few hours, the woman had been to him more of a mother then he'd ever had nearly his entire life. Her meaternal protectivness made him feel safe and protected and he deeply appreciated her concern and care.

"You're almost all better now you know." Tibbs said softly, gently stroking Ryou's hair. "I think the doctors will agree... you can go home tonight if you want."

Ryou sniffed again and closed his eyes.

"Yes.. I'd like that."

* * *

Ryou blinked through the darkness as Tibbs pushed him through the door of his house in a wheel chair. They both starred around at the empty room in the near-darkness once their eyes had adjusted. Tibbs shivered and began feeling around the wall.

"Where's the light switch Ryou?"

Ryou reached up and took her hand.

"No. If he has the lights off, they're off for a reason."

Tibbs looked down at him and observed him for a moment, then nodded and Ryou released her hand.

"Are you sure you'll be alright Ryou?" She asked carefully. Ryou nodded and Tibbs gave him one last smile as he stood up and faced her.

"Alright then. Take care Ryou. And, if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you."

Ryou nodded and thanked her. She gave him a hug before taking the wheel chair and leaving after a fond farewell.

Turning around in the darkness, Ryou frowned at the stairs before proceeding to walk over to and up them. His familiarity with the house negated the need for sight and Ryou knew exactly where he was going. At the top of the stairs, he turned left and shivered as his eyes fell on the last door at the very end of the hall. Looking away from said door, he continued on until he arrived at a door on the right, a few up from the one on the end. The door was slightly ajar and Ryou felt this throat go dry as he placed his hand on it and gently pushed it open.

The teen let out a small gasp as crimson eyes shone back at him through the near-darkness. The moonlight filtering through the window intensified the eyes as they silhouetted the body which owned them. Hands were folded in front of the face while elbows rested on the knees below them. The resulting image would have scared anyone else out of their wits, but Ryou simply starred.

"Are you well again?" A deep, rough voice asked. Ryou swallowed hard and nodded.

"Yes.." Ryou said softly, not sure what else to say.

Without warning, Bakura all but jumped up, grabbed Ryou's wrist and dragged him out of the room. The teen cried out as pain seared his wrists, but Bakura didn't relinquish his hold and said man continued to drag the teen down the hall to the door which had disturbed Ryou so much upon his arrival. Bakura threw the door to the bathroom open and thrust Ryou inside, causing the teen to stumble and fall to his knees. Bakura flicked on the lights, then crouched down next to Ryou and grabbed his face, forcing it upwards to look at the mirror above the sink.

"What is _this_?!" He demanded savagely. Ryou's breath and voice shook with overwhelming emotion.

"It-it..." Ryou sniffled but was able to say anything. Bakura released Ryou's face roughly and stood up. He starred at the week-old message still there, then growled angrily and grabbed a cloth. Wetting the cloth, he wiped the message away and turned to show Ryou the crimson-stained material. It was then that Ryou noticed that the blood on the mirror was the only evidence left from the incident. His heart lurched painfully when he realized Bakura had had to clean the mess up himself -- how that must have pained him...

"If this is the sort of _love_ you have to offer, then I don't want any part of it!!" Bakura snarled savagely. He then threw the cloth at Ryou's feet and gave him the coldest look imaginable, though his eyes swam with entirely different emotions, ones that shocked Ryou to see. Pain, hurt, betrayal.

"I don't want to see your face until I'm ready to look at you!" He spat angrily. "Don't you dare so much as look at me until you grow a back bone!!"

Bakura turned then and stormed out of the room, leaving Ryou on the bathroom floor alone trying to fit all the new pieces of his puzzle together until it finally formed a clear image.

* * *

.....::::: Back to the present :::::.....

* * *

Bakura blinked furiously, wondering why his eyesight was so blurry, then growled angrily when he realized he was crying. He roughly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, then slapped the paint brush back on the wall and swiped it across the wall with new vigor. He'd had to clean up the evidence of Ryou's mistake all by himself, he didn't want anyone else to know what had happened. His stomach wretched again, just like it had then, when he remembered the sight of Ryou's crimson life all over the floor, cupboards, sink and wall; not to mention the mirror.

Well, enough was enough. He had gone through hell in the last week, and now that Ryou was back, Bakura was going to make sure that nothing like this happened again. He had already painted his own room the same crimson color, and after the section he was currently working on was finished, he'd have the bathroom painted too. The idea was that Ryou would remember the insident every time he saw the crimson walls and feel so strongly, whatever the feeling, about the memories, that he wouldn't ever even consider doing anything so foolish again. Judging by the way the teen had reacted to seeing Bakura's room, he guessed that the plan was working quite well. The color obviously bothered the teen, if the looks on his face and the way he avoided the room was any indication. Granted, it greatly bothered Bakura too, as it brought back horrifying memories every time he saw it. It wasn't the sight of blood itself that disturbed the man, but the fact that it was _Ryou's_ blood. Admittedly, the man had been finding reasons to sleep on the couch or in the spare bedroom a lot since the painting because he didn't want to see it, but at least it was keeping Ryou in check. Some excuses had consisted of things such as: his bed was uncomfortable, he didn't want to disturb Ryou who was in the next room when he got up in the morning, or he simply needed a change of scenery. When he did sleep in his own room, he always got up before the sun poured into the room so he didn't have to see the color of the walls.

Finally finishing his job, Bakura cleaned his paint brush, cleaned up his mess and decided to get something to eat. Not that he'd ever been hungry since Ryou's... accident, but he needed something else to occupy himself.

* * *

Ryou frowned as he walked into the bathroom. The room gave him the creeps now with it's horrific color, but he suspected that it bothered Bakura more then him. It brought back memories for them both, but said memories were obviously much harder on Bakura then the younger teen. Ryou sighed heavily and proceeded to do his thing. When he was finished and had washed his hands, he stopped and looked around the room again before setting another frown on his face and turning off the lights. Enough was enough, after a week of looking at the crimson walls, it was time for another change. Heading down to the living room, Ryou sifted through his mind as he decided on exactly what he was going to say.

Finding Bakura on the couch watching some action movie, Ryou sat down along side him, starring at the screen a moment before finally looking over at the man.

"Bakura, I don't like the color of the bathroom and I know you don't either. I want to repaint it."

It may have been a little blunt, but Ryou was sick of tripping over his words and beating around the bush and figured it was time he started getting to the point of things. Besides, Bakura had tod him he didn't want to talk to him until he grew a backbone right? Well, now he'd gotten his wish. Just as he'd suspected, Bakura's face contorted with rage.

"Why?! So you can do_ this_ to yourself again?!"

Ryou starred back at Bakura, resisting a whimper when the man grabbed his still tender wrists. The stitches were out but they were still a little tender. He'd been prepared for Bakura's anger, but he wasn't ready for the incredible pain written on the other's delicate features.

"I promise." Ryou whispered, eyes not leaving Bakura's face. "I won't ever do anything like that again... I'm.. I'm sorry."

Bakura dropped Ryou's wrists roughly and grunted a response before looking back to the Television. Before he could withdraw his own hands however, Ryou caught sight of an odd blemish on the crimson-eyed man's wrist. Reaching out and snatching it, Ryou starred down at the wrist and gave a small gasp.

"What's this?" He asked in shock. Bakura yanked his wrist away but Ryou grabbed it again.

"It's nothing." He grunted, resisting a shiver when Ryou's delicate fingertips caressed the scar gently.

"It's not nothing Bakura, you had to do it somehow.... it looks just like-"

Ryou unconsciously looked down at his own wrists and Bakura grunted again but this time didn't pull his wrist away.

"I burnt it." He mumbled moodiy. Ryou looked up at him curiously.

"You burnt it?" He questioned in confusion. "How?"

Bakura heaved a heavy sigh of annoyance before telling Ryou everything that had happened the day of the _insident_, which was what the two had taken to calling it the limited times that a scatter word had passed between them in the previous weeks.

Ryou starred at Bakura while he spoke, but he looked back down at the burnt wrist and caressed it again when he was finished his story. It looked exactly like the shapes Ryou had carved into his own wrists, the crude broken-heart shape that had very nearly take his life. Something not so deep down nagged and tugged at him as he knew for certain it was a sign. Ryou knew the two had a connection, and he was sure Bakura was aware of it too, if he wasn't before he certainly was now. The only difference was, Ryou wasn't afraid or reluctant to admit it.

"Why were you so worried about me?" Ryou asked softly, looking up into Bakura's eyes as he kept a hold of the wrist in his grip. "Why were you so desperate not to let me go?"

A deep frown took a hold of Bakura's face as he looked away from Ryou.

"You're my hikari... no matter what, you always will be, even though we don't share the same body any more. I'm suppose to protect you."

Ryou's hands moved from Bakura's wrists to the bigger one below it. Both smaller hands wrapped around the slightly bigger one as he scooted a little closer to ther owner.

"Thank you Bakura.... is-is that all?"

Bakura's jaw tightened but he said nothing else. Ryou swallowed and spoke again.

"So there's.... there's nothing else that made you want me to stay? No... _feelings_ or anything?"

Still Bakura said nothing, though his entire body seemed to tense this time.

"What did you feel after the insident, Bakura?"

Having been asked a direct question now, one he couldn't avoid, Bakura knew he had to answer.

"You're supposed to be the intelligent one. I thought you graduated at the top of your class." He said softly. "Why don't you try using a little common sense and you won't need to be asking me so many questions."

Ryou moved again until the space between himself and Bakura was almost non-existent.

"I think I know the answer Bakura, but I'd really like to hear you say it..."

Bakura swallowed and he turned his head away from Ryou.

"I can't ." He whispered softly.

Ryou took one of his occupied hands and moved it up to place on Bakura's face, gently turning it towards him.

"Please Bakura... try.."

Bakura's eyes began to glisten and he cleared his throat as he starred into Ryou's face.

"I'm only here in this world, in this time, because of you, so it doesn't make sense for me to be in it without you." He said quietly, his voice cracking slightly with the raw emotion he couldn't control. "I need you here with me Ryou... Don't leave me again."

Ryou smiled, his eyes glossing over. This meant a lot coming from Bakura and he knew how hard it was for the proud man to say it. There was meaning and deep feeling and emotion behind the somewhat simple words, and Ryou felt he was very lucky to have received them. Lifting Bakura's hand to his lips, he gently turned it over and kissed the finger tips with light, feathery kisses.

"Thank you Bakura." He whispered. "Thank you so much."

Bakura simply nodded and sniffed loudly before clearing his throat again. Ryou's smile widened and he pulled his feet with him up onto the couch. Sitting up on his knees, he leaned forward and pressed a sweet, gentle kiss to Bakura's lips. Bakura's resolve finally broke as tears he'd fought back many times, and tears he'd been fighting back for nearly three weeks finally cascaded down his cheeks. A rebel sob escaped him as Bakura wrapped his arms around Ryou and pulled him close as if he were afraid he'd disappear again.

Ryou kissed Bakura deeply, pouring all his love and emotion into the intimate gesture. He could feel the wetness of Bakura's tears on his cheeks as his arms moved across the man's shoulders, along his back, caressed his neck and moving back again, doing his best to comfort the other and assure him he was there to stay and wasn't going anywhere. After listening to the constricted sobs Bakura was trying so hard to hide and hold back, Ryou pulled away and began kissing the tears away.

"Shhh...." He cooed softly, never imagining that in a million years he'd be in Bakura's arms comforting him, all because he was afraid to lose his hikari. "I'm not going anywhere..."

After a few silent, shaky, deep breaths, Bakura's sobs stopped and his tears slowly ebbed away. Ryou gave his cheeks, jaw and all other parts of his face a few final, loving kisses before moving back to kiss Bakura deeply, making sure to pour every last ounce of emotion into the gesture. Bakura kissed him back hungrily and held him as tight as possible. When the two finally pulled away again, Ryou wrapped his arms tight around his Yami and nuzzled his face into his neck. Bakura hugged his hikari as tight as physically possible and buried his face his his hair, taking a deep breath to inhale his sweet scent. After one last sniffle, he sighed heavily and closed his eyes, finally convinced Ryou was his and he wasn't going to leave him again. As a feeling of content and peace washed over him for the first time in his ife, Bakura whispered something in his hikari's ear that made the younger boy smile.

"We'll repaint the rooms first thing in the morning."


End file.
